A can of Pepsi Max sits in front of me and gives advice.
“I know what you want,” it whispers. Beads of cold sweat roll off its rouge et noir exterior. “I know how you can get it. Just do what you’re thinking right now. Go for it.”
I take a sip. ” It’s not a very good plan, and I don’t have a backup.”
“You don’t need one.” Chuckles coldly.
I turn Plan A over in my mind. It is possible it could work, like any scheme using brute force. ”Perhaps,” I say.
The Moleskine chimes in. “Wait,” it says in a rustle of paper. ” Have you thought about the consequences and possible scenarios?”
The Sheaffer Balance makes marks. Numbers, words. “Holes in the plan,” it agrees, ”here and there, where the mission could fail.”
Another sip of Pepsi Max. “You’re right – Plan A lacks finesse. And Plan B does not exist.”
The drink rallies. “Unnecessary, I swear.”
Anxious looks from the Moleskine and the Sheaffer. “This is too important to trust to chance. Preparedness is key to achieving the desired outcome. Remember how it hurt when you smacked concrete after jumping from a plane without a parachute? You need an improved Plan A. And a Plan B. And C, and D.”
I think of what I want and how badly I want it. The prize is worth waiting for.
I drain the drink. “But…!” it squeaks. “Think instant gratifica…!” I crumple the can and toss it, open the Moley, take up the Sheaffer, and think.